I follow Layla back downstairs, the silence between us sitting even heavier now that Jasper isn’t here to provide a distraction. Their little bungalow is beautiful and simple, every inch of the space cozy and positively brimming with love and life.
Little finger paintings of Jasper’s hang in seashell-crusted frames along the walls of the hallway, the wood floors worn and marked with what I’m sure are tracks from Jasper’s toys. The stairs lead us down into the living room, large windows dotted across the back of the house and looking out into a small patch of yard, fenced in with the same type of reed fencing as the school and littered with growths of tropical wildflowers and several multi-colored balls.
The living room is packed with small end tables and oversized chairs, a large, old couch bisecting the space and serving as a barrier between the kitchen and the living room. Layla loiters at the end of the couch, simply staring at me as I take in her home in greater detail.
Like magnets, my eyes find hers again, the rich brown color twinkling in the low lighting like a set of stars. Layla chews on her full lower lip as she looks at me, a motion that sends thrills of desire catapulting through my veins. She’s just as beautiful as she was at Camp Horizon, if not more- motherhood and island life suit her.
It’s only now, staring at Layla and standing in her home after having spent the evening with her and Jasper, that the full weight of our reality hits me. I love Jasper, and I know deep down in my bones that he’s my child.
Not only that, but I love Layla. I think I always have, even if I was too much of a coward to admit it outright. Now that I know what it’s like to be with both of them, to spend easy evenings like this, I don’t think I could live any other way.
The fact that Layla’s sick only heightens my feelings of urgency. I love her, and I can’t bear to be away from her any longer, even if her mortality looms like a dangling blade above us. I want to take care of her, to help take care of Jasper while she’s still here- and then even when she’s not.
I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for her, raising Jasper alone. Even without her bronchite marias diagnosis, raising a child alone, let alone one with a penchant for magic when she has none, has had to have been difficult.
I don’t want her or Jasper to suffer for however long she has left. I want them both to be comfortable, and I want to ensure that Jasper is safe and cared for even after she’s passed. It’s only when Layla clears her throat awkwardly and returns to the kitchen to finish the last of the dishes that I realize that Layla and I have just been staring at one another in silence.
“Thank you,” Layla says softly, her back to me as she scrubs a pot.
“For what?” I ask, immediately going to her side and rolling up my sleeves to help. She looks sideways at me but says nothing as I pick up a bowl and a washcloth, setting to work.
“For helping. With Jasper, and this, I suppose,” She replies. Her voice shakes slightly, and it dawns on me that she’s nervous. The thought has me fighting a smile- if she’s nervous, maybe I stand a chance. Maybe it means there’s still something between us for her, that she won’t just kick me out like she did last time.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice gentle. Last night I was brash, let my words get away from me. I won’t let the same thing happen this time.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, changing paces. Layla freezes for a moment before turning to me, the pot forgotten in her hand as her dark brows knit together.
“Um… I’m fine. How are you?” She asks. So we’re playingthatgame. I don’t know if I should just come out and say that I know about her diagnosis, for fear of being too forward and pushing her away again, but I’m not really sure how else to go about this.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” She says, still looking at me as if I’ve sprouted an arm between my eyes. I shift awkwardly on my feet, trying to decide how to push forward.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Layla,” I say finally, feeling like it’s the only response left in my arsenal short of completely exposing my prior knowledge of her medical history. It feels like a breach of privacy to have read her file, now that I’m standing in front of her. There was no way for me to know what I’d find before I did it, but nonetheless, I doubt she’d like it very much if she knew outright that I’d snooped around.
Layla sighs, her face pinched slightly, and relief blooms in my chest. Finally, we’re on the same page again! She drops the pot into the sink, sinking down into a chair at the kitchen table as I settle into one across from her.
“What’s going to happen to Jasper?” I ask. Surely, she must have given some thought to what would happen to her son after she passes. Evidently, I’ve fumbled things again, because her features immediately twist into alarm after hearing my question.
“What do you mean what’s going to happen to Jasper?” She asks, her voice growing progressively higher.
“No no, I just mean… you know, when things run their course,” I supply awkwardly, not wanting to come right out and talk about her death. Her confusion and mounting alarm don’t subside, however, so I steel myself, fixing my gaze on the table and coming right out about my concerns.
“I know about your diagnosis, the bronchite marias. I found your file when I took over as Lieutenant, and I just had to know what had happened to you. I saw the healer’s notes when I went looking. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, it was never my intent, but when I knew you were dying I had to come, even just to see you one last time.
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to hang on for so long, your strength is incredible, especially now that I know you’ve been caring for Jasper along with being ill. I just can’t stand the thought of something happening to him once you eventually…” I trail off, realizing I’ve been babbling.
I force myself to meet Layla’s eyes as silence envelops us, only to find that she’s shrunk nearly all the way back into her chair, her face a startling shade of crimson. My mouth opens and closes uselessly as I flounder for the words to make this better.
Have I embarrassed her? Insulted her? I didn’t mean to insinuate she hadn’t made arrangements, I just wanted to make sure they were both going to be taken care of!
“Oh, um… I’m… I’m not sick,” Layla squeaks out, her eyes darting nervously to mine. At first, it doesn’t register what she’s said, my jaw slack as I simply look at her dumbfounded.
“But…” I start before Layla cuts me off.
“The healer, she, um… when I found out I was pregnant, I put in for a transfer. She put it on my paperwork to make sure I got one,” She says, her teeth catching her lower lip as she finishes.
A myriad of emotions storm through me all at once. There’s a part of me that’s angry she would have scared me like this, or been so desperate to get away from me that she would’ve lied about something so serious. Another part of me feels nothing but bone-wobbling relief that the woman I love is okay, is healthy and alive and not going anywhere soon. And yet another part of me is absolutely incredulous, in awe of her resourcefulness and tenacity, floored by her sharp mind once again.
I try to find the words to describe all of the things I’m feeling, but all that comes out is an incredulous laugh. Once that first laugh slips out, the dam breaks, and soon I’m cackling like a maniac in my chair.
“It’s not funny,” Layla says, her words clipped as her eyes flash, embarrassment and anger mingling in her gaze. I only howl harder at her words, the ridiculousness of the entire situation catching up with me all at once.
It doesn’t take long for a nervous giggle to slip out of Layla as she watches me laugh, her posture relaxing as she seems to begin to see the situation for what it is. Before long the both of us have dissolved into a fit, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breath between laughs.
“I guess it was a bit dramatic,” Layla admits as she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes, her smile lingering as I finally catch my breath. She looks so full of life right now, that soft smile playing on her lips, her eyes bright and cheeks pink from residual laughter.
“Just a little,” I tease back, relishing in the way that pink turns a shade darker as I smile at her. All of the anger I was feeling has gone just as fast as it came, leaving nothing but awe and relief in its place.
Layla’s hand rests on the table, and before I have time to think about what I’m doing, I reach forward and place my hand atop hers. Electricity races up my arm from where our hands touch, and I realize it’s the first time in years that I’ve been able to feel Layla’s soft, warm skin beneath mine.
Layla’s eyes round in surprise at the sudden contact, but she doesn’t pull away.
“I’m glad you’re not ill,” I say softly, running my thumb tenderly across the back of her hand. Layla simply stares at me for a moment before dropping her gaze shyly, drawing her hand back to her chest and getting up to return to the dishes.
“Yeah, me too,” She replies after clearing her throat. She makes quick work of the final pot resting in the dish, and I let her, knowing that she’s only using it as a way to dispel the heat lingering between us.
I can’t help myself whenever I’m near her. There’s this magnetic draw that always pulls me back to Layla, that makes my fingers itch with the desire to just touch her. No matter how upset with me she’s been, I can tell by the way she looks at me that she feels it too.
“So, Jasper,” Layla says with a sigh, turning to face me again. “He’s your son.”
I offer her a soft smile in response, nodding. “I know, but it’s nice to hear it out loud.” She nods, her lip tucking itself between her teeth again as she looks at me. Gods, I love it when she does that.
“What… what are you going to do about it?” Layla asks nervously. My brows pull together in answer as I look at her.
“I mean, I want to see him. To help the both of you,” I answer slowly, unsure of where this is going. I certainly want to know him, to have him know me and to be close to him, but her apparent anxiety about this confuses me. Surely she doesn’t think I mean the two of them harm?
“But you’re a Lieutenant,” Layla responds, settling back into her chair. “It’s going to be kind of difficult for you to be around, with you having to run Camp Horizon and manage your other responsibilities.”
It dawns on me that Layla has no idea how serious I am about this, about being near to her and Jasper. She doesn’t know how I really feel about her, because I’ve been too much of a coward to tell her up until this point.
Layla and Jasper are all I’ve ever wanted in my life, my top priority in every sense, and there’s only one real way to prove that to her. I want to be a father, I want to care for Jasper and to be lucky enough to love Layla for the rest of my days.
I get out of my chair, dropping to a knee in front of Layla, her jaw dropping as she watches.
“Layla, be my mate. Marry me.”
